


Suits You, Sir

by Nellblazer



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Arrogance, Class Issues, F/M, Innuendo, Mirror Sex, Ransom Drysdale Being an Asshole, Ransom Drysdale's Sweater, Sassy, Smut, Suit Sex, Suits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:01:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nellblazer/pseuds/Nellblazer
Summary: Ransom is stuck in a cheap shopping mall and decides to make his own fun.*Please do not replicate my work anywhere else without my express permission*
Relationships: Ransom Drysdale/Reader, Ransom Drysdale/You
Comments: 10
Kudos: 110





	Suits You, Sir

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Smut, Classism
> 
> (Likely proof reading errors because I am knackered)
> 
> Happy reading!  
> \- NB xx

Ransom couldn't believe he was in this dive hole of a mall but Meg insisted on coming here with her vapid friends to help....oh he couldn't even remember what kind of hippy excuse she'd come up with.

He'd been unfortunate enough to be nearby when she'd begged for a lift but he was getting a boost to his allowance this week so what was one afternoon of slumming it? He'd just make it up tomorrow by having an outrageous party with strippers and blow.

“This is so cute!” Meg squeals as she drags two of her friends into some teen store where all the mannequins have stringy blonde wigs.

He takes the opportunity to wander to the most expensive part of the mall, which is still chump change to him, and goes into a suit store. He fully intends to have some fun, to mock the cheap fabric and maybe taunt some retail workers too.

Poor baiting, as he and his friends called it, was the highlight of the week.

He went into, catching the sign that said on-site tailoring and a mischievous plan started forming in his head. Oh he could have a lot of fun with this.

Ransom was expecting a few men to be wandering around but boy was he surprised to see you and only you, steaming a jacket behind the counter. He quietly watched you work, openly perving on your ass as you bent to get the lower parts. Then he announced his presence by loudly walking forward and you hung up the steamer, turned around and gave him that customer service smile that he knew was bullshit.

“Good morning, sir. Do you need you help?”

Sir.

Normally he hated formalities but somehow it sounded really hot coming from you. Maybe he'd play up to that a bit more.

“Yeah, I'm looking for a suit for my grandfather's funeral. I know he would've wanted me to be smart. I've tried the stores uptown but they're all too..fanciful. Grandpa liked simple,” he replies with the practised sad little half smile.

Gets them every time.

“Sorry for your loss. Are you looking for traditional black?” you come closer, standing near him and he catches the scent of your, probably, dollar store shampoo.

“Yeah I think so.”

“I think you'd suit a notch lapel with your build. Would you like to try that or did you have a fit in mind?”

A notch what? What the fuck were you talking about? Usually he just went in and someone put him in a suit then and there. They didn't ask him questions about fit.

“Whatever you think is best,” he ends up saying, annoyed at being put on the back foot to start with.

“Right this way then. I'll need to measure you up.”

Ah now _this_ was the part where he could have fun.

He followed you into the little booth area where you took your measuring tape and started sizing him up, making notes on a little pad where you gripped the pen in your lips after each note. He was very focused on how that looked and his mind drifted to what else would look good between your lips.

“I'm going to need to measure your inside leg. If you feel uncomfortable, let me know,” you got on your knees in front of him.

Jesus, this was too easy. You were practically inches away from his semi-hard cock and he didn't know if you were wilfully ignoring it or hadn't noticed.

“Do I need to stand differently?” he asks as he splays his legs out a little more, thrusting forward a little as he does so so you nearly collide with his groin.

“If you stand tall and still, legs about a foot apart. There's no need to plié, this isn't the ballet.”

“I'm sorry?!”

He could've sworn for a second you'd just chided him, told him off. Did you really have the balls to do that?

“It's easier for me to measure when your leg is straight, is all sir,” you smile sweetly up at him.

It's at that point he knows you're not mindless work staff. You know _exactly_ what he's doing.

“Of course,” he shuffles his feet back together. “Just didn't want you to miss any inches. Can't be having cold ankles.”

“Don't worry, sir. I couldn't miss those last few inches if I tried,” you start measuring again.

The absolute nerve of you! How could you fail to see how hung he was? Few inches...he'd show you few inches. Maybe against the window of the store so everyone could see what a trite little bitch you were, how you'd be begging him for more afterwards, how you'd apologise for being rude.

“How do you lean? To the left or right?” your question cuts through his storming thoughts.

“I'm very sure you can see that for yourself,” Ransom loses his composure.

The game isn't fun any more. He didn't expect you to sass him back.

“So I can. Right leaning it is,” you smirk before standing up and circling the tape around his waist. “Could you lift your sweater for me please? It's rather bulky.”

Oh he was reaching boiling point now. It was time to pull out the big guns.

He just drew the whole thing over his head and stood there proudly, displaying his muscles and put his arms out so you could get closer. Surely now you'd fawn over him and he'd get the upper hand again.

Instead you just finished up your measurements, noted the last of them down and tucked the pen behind your ear.

“I think I've got the measure of you now. You can put your sweater back on if you like, sir. I'll be back with a suitable suit.”

When you walked out of the curtain, Ransom just stood there. What the fuck? He'd never been so blatantly rejected before and he didn't like it at all. He was Ransom fucking Drysdale. He had women dropping their panties for him left, right and centre.

Maybe he'd have to resort to flashing his other wad. What he couldn't get the old fashioned way, he could buy. There was no way you were living comfortably from the shoes you were wearing. They were well worn.

You returned with several suits over your arm, hanging them up and pondering for a moment before selecting one.

“Let's try this. I can pin it so you get a better idea of the fit.”

You turn away as you hand him the pants and before you can leave again, he pushes his jeans down and kicks off his shoes. You're avoiding looking at him and that gives him a little bit of satisfaction that he's making you feel awkward.

“I think it's a little tight around the hips,” he coughs as he pulls up the pants and deliberately leaves them undone so you can see the bulge in his boxers.

“Doesn't look tight to me,” you look down and then back up at him, clearly not impressed.

“Come and help me,” it's more of an order than anything.

“I didn't realise the fly was so much trouble,” you raise an eyebrow before walking over and zipping it up for him, tugging on the waistband so he jerks forward a bit. “You've got some room there. Should be easy to move around...at the funeral.”

“Let's see about the jacket. I work hard on my arms so I have trouble fitting them in sleeves.”

You're not taking his bait and you even put the jacket on him with no amount of lingering, perving or anything. The boiling point was well and truly reached.

“There we are, sir,” you've used clips to pinch in the excess fabric.

He hates to admit it but it's a good look on him, despite the cheap price tag. Notch lapels or whatever they were, worked well.

“I'll take it,” he admires himself in the mirror.

“Well then, I think we're all done. I'll wait outside for you, sir.”

“Oh, **we're not done yet** ,” Ransom shakes his head.

“Aren't we?”

“Don't play coy. You know what's going on.”

“You think I've never had customers try to humiliate me before?” you fold your arms. “Make sexual passes at me?”

“Well I'm not every customer, sweetheart.”

“Because you work out? Because you're rich? Trust me I've seen it all.”

Ransom just smiles. This wasn't his plan but he found he was enjoying the verbal sparring.

“I'm sure you have. You know your stuff though, I'll give you that. You made me look really good.”

“I'm good at my job, sir.”

“I really wish you'd stop calling me 'sir'.”

“Because it's making you hard? Oh I could tell,” you mouth quirks into a crooked smile.

He loses control at that, advancing on you until you back up into the mirror and he can see your chest heaving through the thin cotton blouse. Were you excited or afraid?

“I bet you could. Do you appraise every cock that's near your face when you measure men? Do you compare us all? How do I stand?”

“On the bigger side.”

“Good to know,” he grins. “I'm happy to let you get personal so you can make a proper assessment.”

“Who says I want it?”

“I think you're enjoying this as much as I am. I bet other guys become embarrassed or angry, huh?”

“And you're....”

“Into it. Didn't expect to be but I'm into it.”

He takes the chance, kissing you and you kiss him back just as fiercely. He thought women who tried to out-dominate him were hilarious usually but you...oh you were driving him _wild_.

“I'm gonna fuck you from behind so you can watch, watch me take you apart.”

“Bold claim. Will you last long though or will I be missing my lunch break?” you wink.

“That does it,” he rips your blouse open, pawing at your chest and you let out a little whimper which makes his cock twitch in anticipation.

“Oh hurry up,” you undo your own pants, pushing them down along with your underwear. “I don't want to get caught.”

He whirls you around so your hands are pressed on the mirror's surface and grinds his cock against your ass.

“You want it? Beg for it, baby,” he whispers in your ear. “My name is Ransom. Use it.”

“You fucking asshole, Ransom. Fuck me before I change my mind.”

“Close enough.”

He slides in, amused at how wet you are and he groans feeling you squeeze him. What a beautiful pussy you had and he'd love to take his time but anyone could walk in right now and if it was gonna be Meg, he'd never hear the end of it.

He starts thrusting hard and fast, watching your expressions in the mirror and he catches you watching him at points. When he snakes his hand around to play with your clit, he really loves the way your mouth falls open in a gasp, the way your fingers are scrabbling at the mirror and how you push your ass back further against him, arching your back so he can get deeper.

“Shit, you're such a find,” he bites his lip. “Come on, baby. Cum for me.”

He felt the point where you tipped over the edge, how your pussy became a vice around him, fluttering with your orgasm and you let out the most pornworthy cry that someone was bound to have heard walking by but he kinda liked that idea.

Ransom was so caught up, he came hard in you without meaning to, filling you up and half collapsing over your back. He'd not had an orgasm like that in months.

“We'd best get dressed,” you disentangle yourself, redressing and you steal Ransom's sweater. “I'll take this since you destroyed mine. You can wear the suit out of here.”

“Can I? I'm paying for it, huh?”

“You're the one who spoiled it.”

He grabs you by the back of the neck, let his lips linger a centimetre from yours, “I think _you're_ the one who spoiled it but I'm still gonna pay.”

He gave you a little nip to the bottom lip before walking out to the counter after taking a shirt off the rack and unpinning all the clips. He'd get a friend to tailor it in later. His jeans could stay here, he could always buy more.

“Have a tip,” he drops a few hundreds in cash as well as using his card. “It'll pay for a new blouse. Well...goodbye then.”

“Goodbye....sir,” you quirk up an eyebrow.

“Ohhhh it's goodbye for now because I want to hear you call me sir again real soon.”

“Come see me after work then sometime.”

“I will, don't you worry about that,” he strides out of the store, just as Meg is rounding the corner.

“Ransom! You found something to buy here!”

“I did and you know what, I can see the appeal of this place now.”

As he walks out with Meg, he looks through the store window and gives you a wave which you return by lifting his sweater up so you flash him.

Oh yeah, he'd be a repeat customer for sure.


End file.
